Instead of which he flung down his head and made an unexpected rush at Teresita--and Jack had left his pistols at home.
Jack's riata was coiled in his hand and his head was turned towards the girl, his brain busy with his thoughts of her and her wilfulness.

From the tail of his eye he caught the first lunge of the bull, and that automatic mental adjustment to unexpected situations, which we call presence of mind, sent a knee-signal to Surry which that intelligent animal obeyed implicitly.
Surry rushed straight at the bull, but the triangle was a short one, and there was much to do in that quarter of a minute.

Teresita was stubborn and would not turn and run; but she happened to be riding Tejon, who knew something about bulls and was capable of acting upon his knowledge.
He whirled with hind feet for a pivot and ducked away from the horns coming at him, and it was not one second too soon.

The bull swept by, so close that a slaver of foam was flung against Teresita's skirt as he passed.
He whirled to come back at the girl--and that time he seemed sure to give that vicious, ripping jab he had so narrowly missed giving before; even the girl saw that he would, and turned a little pale, and Tejon's eyes glazed with terror.
But Jack had gained the second he needed--the second that divided adventure from tragedy.

The riata loop shot from his upflung hand and sped whimperingly on its errand, even as Tejon tried to swing away, tripped, and tumbled to his knees.